


Following Shadow

by silkyshadow



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Blackmail, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, John knows they shady, M/M, McLennon, NSFW, Ringo is a stalker, Smut, Stalking, also Mo and Ringo are shady, also im bad at this if you couldn't tell, later tho, not much thanks for asking, okok no more spoilers, starrison, super shady, well that should be it, yay Ringo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2019-10-25 21:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkyshadow/pseuds/silkyshadow
Summary: ~set in modern high school~George is quite basic. He’s got basic friends, a basic family, basic girlfriend, but other people would consider him to be the epitome of perfection. But those opinions and rumors of him being so perfect can really change other people’s eyes for him.





	1. Little Known Shadows

George has it all. An amazing girlfriend, a ton of friends, good grades, a happy family, and a talent for the guitar. Well at least so it seems. The problem isn't any of that. No. Everything is fine, even the fact, that apart from his girlfriend, he doesn’t mind men. And by doesn’t mind men, it means he's gay. Now of course, your not just gonna go and tell all of your friends, strangers, or even your own family, out of the blue that your gay. Well at least not George. He wanted to keep his secret sound and safe. 

Walking through the crowded hallways was a task, and trying to act tough, as well as not-so-gay, was in fact, pretty tough. When he finally got to the table assigned to the “popular” kids, he took his time shrugging off his guitar and taking it out of its case. Often times at lunch time, George would play for the girls in the group, who at least once have tried flirting with him, and he in return said he had a girlfriend, which was true. Except neither were on the contributing side. As the usual crowd noticed his existence, he continued playing a soft ballad, and as a response a bit of silence came. The ballad was going smooth as per usual, and the crowd was growing as per usual, but one thing was new. Something, in fact, someone, caught George’s eye.

There was a mere sliver of what George would describe as a regular, he couldn’t tell if the boy had been new or someone who just didn’t show up often, stopping and staring in what he would describe as awe, hoping that no one would notice him. Oh, but George did. When George looked him in the eye, there was an instant recoil, and the boy quickly left with some girl that seemed a little rough. The distraction was so off-putting, George messed up around three chords before regaining control, and thankfully, no one noticed by the looks of it. 

After the seeming neverending ballad ended, the small crowd all clapped, George wiped a fake tear quickly and thanked the people, even though he had no clue who they were. After the complex music had ended and everyone dispersed, George simply tuned out and strummed chords. Thankfully soon the bell reverberated through the halls as George continued avoiding conversation. Packing his belongings quickly he made his way to class, waving to a few faces he to some extent recognized, afterwards only to continue his same “bored” appearance. 

His fifth period was band, where he was the only guitarist, as not many other people begged Mr.Martin to play the guitar in band. Only one other kid differed from the rest, as he played piano. That kid, was George’s old friend, Paul. Paul gets along with everyone and anyone, and when they say it, they really mean it. He somehow befriends the lonely scary trench coat fiends that each and every high school has. He gets along with everyone so well, he sort of forgets about his oldest friend, and replaced them with brutes and banjo boys. 

In recent months, that same old friend of George’s has become interested in one particular trench coat angster who vapes behind 7-11. John. Though George sees not much in him, he knows Paul sure does. This same banjo boy literally hogs Paul all to himself, and is so incredibly territorial over the poor boy, that even George has started to avoid him, and he’s sure Paul knows.

The band room is empty when George makes it over, ironically, he takes the longest to get his stuff together, and is always one of the first there. Rewarding the first few with the privilege of privacy the silence is perfect for conversation, so Paul walks over to George, and for a surprising once, without John. 

“Hey” Paul could only say looking everywhere but at George, with unsaid words hanging between them. They used to be so open with each other, never needing to do the “heys” and “what’s up” like in some friendships. They could just tell what the other felt like without the need of conversation, but now, some part of that same friendship dissolved. Making every single last word unpredictable, neither knowing what the other would say.

“Hey, where’s John?” just after saying those words, George had immediate regret. Paul’s face went grim for split seconds, and immediately followed with “Dunno” said with a shrug, and the best attempt the boy could make to sound nonchalant. The following seconds, which felt like hours, the two stood in the empty band room, with nothing but silence surrounding the two.

Before things could get worse, George took the upperhand, and left to his stand to tune his already perfectly tuned guitar. Even with poor attempts at the action, Paul caught on and made his way to the piano and started to quietly practice chords.

After no time at all, bandmates made their way into the large practically empty room, relieving the looming tension just swinging in the air. With chats breaking into the environment, Paul skidded off to have some empty conversation before class, that is, before a loud clash sounded through the room. And to no one’s surprise, it was the beloved banjo boy. He was under everyone’s radar, but not for long, as soon, being himself he walked into some note stands in the corner. The attention of the whole room snapped to the aforementioned boy, and soon laughter started to bubble out of people mouths, as John stood there, looking at the same people with an unreadable expression. 

Paul surprisingly didn’t approach the boy, staring him down with an unreadable expression as well, only proving George right on his theory that John and Paul had argued. 

Once the bell rang, and the teacher came in, the laughter calmed down but never disappeared. After a laughing fit, high schoolers remained laughy. Class was going great otherwise, the problem being George couldn’t concentrate.The first few times the teacher merely looked at George with a blissful expression, as if to say everything was fine, but not for George. As the chords kept messing up, people started to notice, and one of those people would be the unforgettable John. The thing that really made him stand out from the rest, would be his way of handling emotions and issues. If he felt like shit, everyone else would also end up feeling like shit.

As George attempted to pay attention more to his chords rather than the boy, that same talent started to betray him, as it only got worse. There was an odd feeling that people were burning their eyes into George’s back, a lingering paranoia that started to make his fingers slip up. Eventually the teacher asked if he needed some fresh air, and all the kids in the class giggled as a sign of compassion. With all this, George ended up playing quietly so that no one else would hear, but, and to George’s dismay, John payed close attention to those he didn’t quite like. And he wanted those same people to suffer under his hands. 

“Why ya playin’ like a mouse, Georgie?” John said with a growing grin, with giggles as support to his sadistic manners. 

“Why ya playing like a bum?” George shot back quickly, with venom in every syllable. He hated when people pointed out the obvious on purpose, it just drove him up a wall. There was a small break between two pieces and John wasn’t going to let time slip when he could use it for such good reasons. 

After the usual “ooh”s a class earned from any event, George couldn’t let go of his ego being pressed, so he added to the lot.

“Is it cause’ ye are one?” the “ooh”s only intensed and so did banjo boy. His expression growing with anger, jaw going slack before suddenly snapping to a sly one relaxation evident in every feature. 

When the class finished expressing itself, George’s hands were already itching with the need to hit something, anything. All he needed was one more push and he would pummel someone into the ground. While all the commotion was going on, Mr.Martin was busy with an important paper, his attention wavering more and more from the class. So the moment was a perfect one. 

“Oh, m’not worried bout that at all, Georgie, m’more worried what could happen to a queer such as yourself.” The statement was put out quickly and while people were being loud, they wouldn’t be able to hear a single syllable, yet it was like salt to a wound, making George lose the last bit of his control. He, simply put it, snapped. Tearing himself out of his seat, and with swift movement making it over to the boy a few steps away, George grabbed his collar with blood in his eyes, and his fists did the rest of the talking. 

At first, not a single soul knew how to react to the sudden outburst, before Mr.Martin dashed out of his seat followed by Paul, one grabbing George, the other John. After the initial aggression was gone, the situation was cleared, yet George had a lingering gut feeling that something was wrong. 

After the two were ripped off each other, they were consequently dragged off to the principal's office, where the grilling would begin. 

Simply walking near each other was painful to the eyes. While John had a smug and relaxed demeanor, George didn’t. The panic of the situation finally setting in after the fistful of a conversation, who knows where that information could be with other than John. And it wasn’t as though George had ever shown his true self, always talking about his girlfriend to avoid any questions. The tension was thick enough to cut through. 

George simply had to find out.

“How?” a simple question that could easily fool anyone, except for those who have dirt on others. 

“Don’t worry, no one knows.” while it didn’t answer the simple yet perplexing question, it definitely brought comfort to a certain mind. As for the meantime, that answer would suffice. 

When the two finally arrived at the principal’s office, they were immediately sat apart, and asked the usual questions like “have you ever argued before” or “why did you make such a rash move?” or “would you two like to talk to the school wellness center ‘therapist’?”, and those same questions were given simple one word answers. Even though the principal accepted those same answers, he still didn’t looked pleased with the situation. Of course not on John’s part, but George’s. 

The boy was a good student, and never fought with peers, this was definitely a first. But then again, with John, anyone could snap. After a few initial minutes of grilling the two of them, the principal, Mr.Epstein, also known as Eppy by other teachers and staff, sent John to the infirmary, and kept George in to somewhat further the discussion. Though in the end it didn’t get neither of them anywhere.

“Just tell me why did you hit him?” even though unexpected of a principal, Mr.Epstein spoke in a serene and sweet motherly tone, but even so, George couldn't just out himself. 

“He was being rude and stuck onto every word I said” which even though somewhat true it was still a white lie. With that in mind, George’s eyes naturally shifted to the floor, and Eppy couldn’t help but wonder, what really happened?

“Hate to be a bother, but can I have a schedule change?” an even more surprising sentence climbed out of his own mouth, both were left with mouths barely, but surely, agape. And after the surprise the two worked out a deal, that was definitely going to be difficult as a task. 

It was still fresh in the year, only being October, and a class change wouldn’t be the worst, but even as principal he needed a reason to change a schedule. 

“For what reason should I change your schedule, Harrison?” which actually was a genuine question. George simply had no reason to change his classes. 

“To be frank, I’d like to quit band and maybe take a language.” even though George didn’t want to quit band, he did want to take a language. And the school rules had only permitted taking one or the other. 

“Well that’s not a good reason for me to change your whole schedule.” Mr.Epstein was being absolutely transparent with how little he wanted to do this. “If this is about John, just make up, and if not, avoid each other. This fight isn’t a reason for me to change your schedule.”

“But you see Mr.Epstein, I’d like to change my extra curricular. And the policy is music or language.”

“Alright, but I’ll only put you in the language that has space in they fifth period class. After all beggars can’t be choosers.” and with that the conversation mostly ended, Mr.Epstein simply bringing to mention the fact that he would call George’s parents, informing them of the fight and schedule change, which even so wasn’t all too dramatic. 

And thanks to the change in schedule, George was allowed to leave after the bell rang, which he gladly did so. His last class of the day passed by quick, and in it he got a text from a number he recognized that offered to hang out and get milkshakes. He originally didn’t have much planned, and intended on keeping it that way, but felt as though he hadn’t done anything interesting in awhile and accepted the offer. 

After the final bell, George sought out to find his “girlfriend”. Pattie was her name, they met during a yearbook interview, as the girl had been in the photography club and signed up to the journalism class. She had all the rights to interview anyone, yet she chose to interview George. The two got along well, in fact too well for George’s comfort, thankfully Pattie was understanding when George explained to her he was gay in a blind moment of panic. Since then the two faked a relationship flimsily at best. 

Other than George, Pattie also had a reason she wished to fake a relationship. Her actual boyfriend. He wasn’t known as the best person, and her parents were nothing but worried when they got word that their precious girl was dating some outlandish bad boy named Eric. From George’s few moments with him, the guy was quite wonderful and fun to be around with. But parents take the fun out of everything. 

The two met at their usual cahoots column, and took their time going to George’s car. It was a simple car, that honestly wasn’t too noticeable looking like any other car. It wasn’t old, but definitely not young and crisp. But it  
worked and that was all that mattered. 

“Ok, so, spill the tea.” 

George didn’t even have time to start his car and leave the ground of hell before Pattie started burning him for answers. 

“Is that what the youngsters of today say, ‘tea’?” Pattie gave him a light push and chuckled while George kept rolling the word on the tip of his tongue just to tease her. 

Even though the two weren’t dating, and George was most certainly gay, he still found that Pattie was attractive and thought that she had a bubbly and kind personality. 

“Yeah, yeah old man. Just tell me all the juicy details about what happened with Lemon!” 

Ok maybe not kind, but hopefully bubbly. Hopefully. 

“Well,” George said contemplating his words. “We were in band, and he seemed to be in a sheit mood, nd decided to make me feel the same.”

“What’d he say?” Pattie only had genuine concern and care etched out in her eyes, brows furrowing with the emotion. A short period of silence followed, which neither felt like breaking. 

“He said he knew about...Well me being gay.” the words could only tumble out of George’s mouth as he thought back on the events of the day. Pattie stilled, all of her muscles freezing over. 

“What?” somehow Pattie was more worried than George. 

“‘Said he hadn’t told nobody.” looking straight ahead was easier than attempting to look at Pattie and the obvious body language. Even though George tried to sound nonchalant, he still couldn’t help but feel a drop of fear spread through his blood like a virus, the thoughts in his head a symptom he wanted to avoid. 

Throughout the silent moment, Pattie hadn’t moved, making George both nervous and curious as to what would follow. 

“God, I’ll beat that ass one day.” she said swiftly relaxing back into her seat with an exhale from her nose. And for some reason, whether it be fear or something else, they both chuckled. Of course the initial chuckle quickly growing into a laughing fit, which was not safe on the drivers part. 

They finally got to their favorite spot for anything snacky, both heavily climbing out the car and absentmindedly taking the booth more secure and covered. A light conversation started between the two, discussing recent gossip and obviously avoiding the subject John. A sweet looking tween popped up to take their orders, which they happily told her as they both were hungry. Pattie because of her new diet, George his appetite. 

When they got their orders they continued with the light chat, customers continuously flowing in and out of the joint. But a particular pair of customers caught George’s attention when he noticed them out of the corner of his eye. 

Watching them closely had obviously taken his attention away from Pattie’s rant on how she hates carrying her metal straw around as it’s a bother but yet the turtles matter to her-

“Hey, what are you-“

When her eyes landed on the sight George was observing from their hidden off booth, all she could say was:

“Holy shit.”


	2. Ashy Boots

The fresh morning air was pleasant against Ringo's warm cheeks. He had been feeling ill yet again, but didn’t want to even attempt to bother. It was simply too common of an occurrence that it didn’t matter as much as it would to any other people. Mo was rambling about something again, but her words just wouldn’t register in Ringo’s mind, even if he tried to focus. 

 

“Are you even listening to me?” her strong stance and raspy voice snapped him back to reality and the girl in front of him. Her face only read irritation with furrowed brows and lips forming a scowl. 

 

“Uh, sure.” shifting his body from discomfort under her eyes, Ringo tried to pull a soft smile that only made it look as if he was being held at gunpoint. Mo only sighed in response and took a step back, only to sling her already abused backpack to the ground with a loud thump whilst in the actions. Ringo was more than confused, Mo would usually wait until later to hand him things, this being an evident flaw to her character. Lazy gal she was. 

 

After shuffling through the bag for 5 minutes, stopping at different folders, humming then repeating the actions with percussion and definite skill. The skill being stealing folders. Don’t worry about which kind, because Mo always gets them. Once in fact, the two were in the main office on the assumption that one of them was ill, when they slipped into the vice principals office to take out some files the school surely “didn’t need”. After 4 minutes of searching they heard heavy footsteps and immediately could tell who was meters away; the vice principal. Thankfully some office worker struck up a conversation with him, and soon he left and so did the little troublemakers. But the stress of it all made Ringo take a few days off. 

 

“Here.” Mo finally stopped going through the poor sack on the ground handing a crisp looking folder, after which she slung the bag over her shoulder once more. The folder was clean, lucky to be young enough to be still at peace, while just glimpsing over to other folders you can clearly see tears and creases. The poor things. 

 

“Someone new?” Ringos hands held the folder tightly, having a bad feeling about it. He opened the cheap thing to see the contents and get a brief overview of what was going on. There were no pictures or descriptions inside, the papers inside briefly went over family history and the idea of what the two were looking for. The persons name also wasn’t given, only a nickname.  _ McDreamy.  _

 

“Nope. Just a new client, but I’m warning you, your not gonna like the guts of it.” thankfully she was only referring to the contents inside

the folder, which she was right, made Ringo very unhappy. Ringo hated a repetition of people to “investigate”. 

 

“Oh cmon, really?” he said finally looking up to Mo with a glare, that she graciously returned. He couldn’t help but groan each time he looked inside.  _ McDreamy  _ could be anyone, anything and whatnot. The client didn’t want to give our information on the person, which made their job very difficult, but that also means they would only get paid better. 

 

“Not my fault you messed up our last order. Have you ever even  _ seen  _ McDreamy?” Mo, of course was referring to the fact that on their last ‘mission’, Ringo “lost” the folder with the blackmail info, which got everyone in the group very angry. And she was right. Ringo has never encountered the target. They’ve had other clients request the same person with the same nickname, if girls really liked someone they could be scary. 

 

“Of course not, but you still didn’t have to do this. And anyway, what could McDreamy have on himself?” This same  _ McDreamy  _ had nothing serious in the folder. There was only one request from the client: to set in stone whether this same  _ McDreamy  _ was gay or not. Thankfully most of the clients who requested  _ McDreamy  _ eventually chickened out or switched suppliers, and Ringo was lucky that this was his first  _ McDreamy  _ case. 

 

“Oh you’d be surprised good troubadour. You’d be surprised.” those words stuck with Ringo and made him more confused, but figuring he should start heading to school grounds, the pair speed-walked from behind the nearby gas station and into the cafeteria to see if they had luck at sightings or maybe eavesdropping. They still had other requests they had to deal with, so with any extra time the two would stop by  _ hives,  _ as they so politely called teen-packed areas. 

 

The two weren’t friends, business partners, yes. Friends, never. They couldn’t relate to each other at all. Nothing alike between the two. Mo was cold, nothing but a rough skin and an emotionless husk, she was technically Ringo's senior, as she has been in the black business for quite a bit longer than Ringo. But Ringo was good at his job, and he had reasons for getting it. 

 

As the two entered the cafeteria, Ringo couldn’t help but be curious who was playing the guitar and attracting so much attention. They barely ever went into the cafeteria during lunch even if it was for work, so something new had to be put on record. They would usually stick to areas outside where they could hide behind bushes and trees to take pictures. 

 

The melodic sound was relaxing, sugar to the ears. It was a pleasant ballad, that surely would lullaby anyone to a state of utmost peace. Ringo couldn’t help but stare at the person playing. He doesn’t know many people, but the slender boy playing the instrument was someone he definitely wanted to befriend. Or at least attempt. 

 

Ringo didn’t notice he was staring until the musician looked up and locked eyes with him. A red tint quickly covered Ringo's cheeks, and he couldn’t help but divert his eyes from the other boy. The guitarist was admittedly good looking, wearing an oddly put together outfit consisting of black and white checkered trousers, as well as a white windbreaker and a black shirt. 

 

Mo noticed Ringo's reaction immediately, and this folks is the reason you don’t become partners with a professional blackmailer. She quickly tugged Ringo away from the crime scene, dragging him most likely to his untimely death. Her head was fixated forward and her whole face said “doom”. Ringo was doomed. 

 

“What the  _ fuck  _ was that?” Mo said her head still looking ahead body still and stiff, but her face reading less anger and more confusion. Her mere expression somehow made Ringo more nervous than the meeting with their boss, which he almost got fired from. 

 

“What?” the question came out as a raspy whisper laced with fear. The longer this conversation held up the more Ringo was getting worried. The fear bubbling to the surface of his skin giving him goosebumps, his eyes dull while still a deep blue and glossed over with a sort of concern, his brows holding a stiff stance, and his body becoming a solid rock of nerves. 

 

“Your kidding me.” Mo looked genuinely interested in what Ringo had to say. 

 

“ _ What? _ ” this time Ringo couldn’t help a giggle at the confusion he had. Usually Mo would be silent even if Ringo was messing up everything for the whole team, but for once she was only confusing the already confused boy. 

 

After staring tensely at each other, those same giggles that bubbled out of Ringo became infectious. Mo’s face slowly lit up and before long, the two were laughing their lungs out like absolutely mental people. After laughing for a good minute, the two simply looked at each other through heavy eyes and only started laughing harder. 

 

“I...can’t believe...you like the...McDreamy boy.” she was practically gasping for air after the two laughed for so long and so hard that it began to hurt. But as soon as the words were pronounced, Ringo's laugh and smile dropped immediately, and slowly his face turned to face his partner, horror written all over his features. 

 

“ _ Wh- _ “ as soon as Ringo began to speak, the bell rang, leaving them to an uncomfortable silence. Mo decided to take her leave first, muttering a “goodbye” and a “meet me in our spot” before disappearing into the crowded halls out of Ringo's sight. But Ringo was stuck, he couldn’t move for at least 5 minutes. 

 

It was hard to believe that McDreamy, the guy Ringo was  _ supposed  _ to despise, the guy Ringo couldn’t even stand to imagine what it would feel like to  _ look  _ at, would turn out to be someone Ringo  _ wanted  _ to look at. Before he could dig deeper into his thoughts, Ringo sighed strolling through the halls before opening his 5th period class’ door. It creaked, but pulled no attention towards him. Approaching his table he immediately recognized the quiffed head of hair.   

 

He sat down in the awfully uncomfortable chairs all schools had, and was immediately greeted with a soft smile from a friendly face he recognized as his  _ actual _ friend, Rory. Or at least he liked being called Rory. Ringo liked to spite him and call him Alan, but he himself would forget about the joke and call him by his preferred name. 

 

Rory had his binders and books messily scattered around the lab table they shared, which Ringo immediately started to clean, unable to bear the sight the table held. Rory rolled his eyes with a cheeky grin, continuing his relaxed posture just to make Ringo's clean-up harder. No one even bothered to spare a glance because they were the only duo lab table, so they weren’t bothering anyone. 

 

“So how’s b-business been?” Ringo chuckled at the question, Rory didn’t work in the same industry, in fact he didn’t even have a real job, he had a YouTube channel where he sang songs, that he and his band would write, but other than his revenue he didn’t get pay checks. Ringo could hardly see Rory in a restaurant chain, let alone as a professional stalker. 

 

“Nothing old, nothing new.” Ringo couldn’t help but sigh, the job itself was stressful, and so was the thought of being found out. Ringo avoided any events because of this. What if someone were to recognize him as that one kid who took a picture of them and sold it online? Exactly. Doubtful it’ll happen but good reason to fear everything and everyone. 

 

Of course Ringo felt guilt. He felt it all the time. He felt bad for making those people uncomfortable, for making them paranoid, for affecting them  _ at all _ . Even if for a short period of time. He still felt guilt. Mo told him in the beginning that he was too soft, but he really needed the job, so he learned to  _ act  _ like he wasn’t soft. It didn’t help that he couldn’t talk about his job, otherwise he’d have to pay the price for having a loose jaw. And he’s heard of what they do. 

 

After cleaning up the annoying mess Rory caused, Ringo attempted to give the aforementioned man-child a weak smile, the previous 10 minutes replaying in his head. The same guitarist.  _ McDreamy.  _ He could understand why girls called him that. He was all but handsome, charming in his own way even.  _ Sure, _ his sense in fashion was...lacking. But that was a simple fix that Ringo wouldn’t mind straightening out.  _ God what was he thinking.  _

 

He didn’t even know if  _ McDreamy was  _ straight, but he just had to find out. Not that he wanted to, it was simply his job. And his job was simply his excuse for wanting to find out. 

 

As the lesson went on with Ringo absentmindedly sketching in his notebook, Rory tapped him on the shoulder. Ringo looked up to see Rory pass him a note, even though they could just talk. 

 

**Smoke break**

 

_ Ah.  _ Ringo understood immediately. He looked at Rory for directions, and thankfully he was already ahead of the train. The teacher dismissed him, and around ten minutes later, when Ringo was sure the teacher had forgotten about the one-kid-that-sits-in-the-back he asked to be excused, which he was. 

 

The halls were barren of any life, making them almost eerie, devoid of all that was considered normal. As he took the usual twists and turns he ended up behind the nurses office where Rory was already waiting on his phone. He was either texting or  _ something.  _ All Ringo could say for sure was that he was typing. 

 

“You t-took too lon-long.” He said keeping his eyes glued to his phone. Must be important. 

 

“Well if only Ms.Baranovskaya had shorter memory~” he replied tauntingly in a sing-song voice. Rory pried his eyes off the screen to scrunch up his nose in disappointment and giggle. Everyone knew that Ms.Baranovskaya simply didn’t care enough to worry about all of their discussions and papers and anything to do with teaching. Apparently she’s known in the red-light district. A teacher in light, a whore at night. 

 

A lot of people went to have a smoke break during 5th period. Especially juniors and seniors. In the beginning of the year, which was 2 weeks ago, teachers  _ tried  _ to stop students from smoking ironically behind the nurses office, but quickly gave up. And tried is a stretch. 

 

The ciggie was needed, a weight off the load. The smoke pouring into his lungs felt like trees blossoming in spring. Except one wasn’t as harmful as the other. The two simply sat in silence, Ringo looking off into the distance, Rory still glued to his phone. 

 

“So,  _ er,  _ what’s up?” Ringo desperately tried to make conversation. Silence was worse than anything at the moment, it let his mind think, and he really didn’t need that at the moment.  Rory huffed. 

 

“W-what’s up with you?” Rory peeled his eyes off the screen, straightening his back while still remaining seated on the ground. Ringo raised a brow asking for Rory to provide  _ details.  _ Something he often avoided. 

 

Ringo knew what this was about. He never talked much in 5th break, and if he did, well then it would be copying homework or actually doing it. 

“You know what I’m talking about.” Rory said completely calm, tone virtually unchanged, even. 

 

“I don’t.”

 

“You d-do.”

 

“Well even if I did I won’t tell you.”

 

“If it’s your j-j-job I underst-stand, but y-you can’t carry the whole wo-r-rld on your back.” the lovely man-child-teen was right. Ringo would avoid talking about anything. He was always sensitive, but hated showing it. But his job really made it hard for him to talk about his problems, mostly because his problems  _ were  _ from his job. 

 

Ringo couldn’t help but sigh. He didn’t necessarily have a  _ crush  _ on  _ McDreamy,  _ but he certainly had an attraction for the young lad. An attraction he certainly didn’t need. He heard footsteps down the hall. Probably just some random students. 

 

“I don’t even know how to tell you thanks, Ror-“ Ringo was just starting to say his thanks when he heard a  _ voice.  _ Rory looked over the boy who’s vision fell to the ground and stance changed mid-sentence. 

 

“ _ Don’t worry no one knows.”  _

 

_ John Lennon.  _

 

_ McDreamy.  _

 

Who doesn’t know what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaaay, I actually like this chapter! Shocking. For some reason I find it verrry hard to write from George’s POV. Dunno why. Anyway I’ll try to keep up the consistency, but only time will tell! :-)


	3. Loathing Laughing

The two left the restaurant in a hurry. Pattie was greedily gasping for air, but George couldn’t judge her as he’d be lying if he said he wasn't in the same condition. They didn’t mean to see what they saw,  _ god no,  _ they just happened to look there at the right time at the right moment. Because it  _ was  _ a moment. Thankfully the two escaped unseen, but what  _ they  _ had seen also couldn’t be unseen. 

 

Walking down the asphalt streets, rocks kicked under each step, neither was speaking. For George it was hard to comprehend what he saw, as for Pattie, she was simply understanding and too polite to disturb him and what was going through his head. So the topic was immediately dropped. 

 

“Anyway, anything else we can do?” Pattie tried desperately for conversation, while George remained silent. He simply shook his head to disagree with her on the question. There was nothing else to be said. Thankfully, Eric, Pattie’s actual boyfriend called. George could hear murmurs from the phone, but he didn’t try to listen in on the conversation. Pattie would make occasional hums and say short responses to what could only be questions, but she strayed from staying long on the phone, of course only to George’s delight. 

 

After she hung up, she looked at George apologetically, her eyes speaking more than her mouth. George understood and nodded hesitantly. He needed a break anyway. Pattie said a quick goodbye and a “ta” and was off. The weather matched the lads mood. It was confusing, cloudy but sunny, light one second and dark the next. There were even patches of rain clouds sprinkling in the sky. He didn’t want to go home quite yet, but he didn’t want to walk pointlessly on the streets either. 

 

After walking aimlessly for another few minutes, a familiar face came into view. The same boy. The boy he locked eyes with. The one with eyes of awe. George looked down, not wanting eye contact, yet when the boy came into sight, mind you with the same friend from earlier, George couldn’t help but give a sweet smile in his direction. The lad gave him a sugary smile in return and waved, which only left George’s mood for the best.  _ Gah he’s too cute.  _

 

George kept walking in no particular direction with a light smile plastered on his face. But somehow within milliseconds his good moods, happy thoughts, and that dumb smile all dropped dead.  _ Oh no _ . 

 

Suddenly a panic took over any rhyme or reason George could’ve had left, he turned around and booked it the other way, sadly the force of surprise never ceased to surprise. The  _ issue  _ George was running from was right behind following. Eventually the cat and mouse game had to end, so a few meters off the two stopped running, Paul finally given the chance to catch up, John not too far behind. 

 

It was an awkward silence nobody enjoyed. Paul tried to seem calm but his fidgeting and general stance was enough to give the impression of the opposite. John was calm though. He always seemed to be calm in the worst times and about the worst topics. Or maybe he wasn’t calm, and simply he was too good at hiding what he felt.  George remained silent. His brows knitted and his gaze staying unwavered. 

 

“Uhm...hey.” was the only words Paul could choke out. He looked down obviously incapable of saying anything. The three all stood uncomfortably, no one daring to croak out a thing.

 

“Running away from us sure is new on the list.” John said snarkily. Nope he was calm, nothing to hide for this good man.  _ Good man.  _ George’s mood somehow got worse, him wanting to repeat his hands’ speech all over again, though this time on the street. And even though the comment left George’s mouth bitter, he still wanted to be the last to speak. 

 

“ _ Hah _ , us. You really-“ before George could have the pleasant conversation continue, someone not in the group interrupted him. 

 

“Hey lads.” A familiar voice sounded through the tension, clearly amused by how the three were acting.  _ What in the bloody hell?  _ Out of nowhere the boy appeared with his friend. 

 

_ But I thought they were going the other way? _ The boy was smiling cheerily, his baggy mustard sweater making him seem innocent. 

 

“Oh, ‘ey Ritchie.” John said in a friendly tone, which left both Paul and George giving him confused looks, being absolutely lost in the situation.  _ So his name is Ritchie.  _ Ritchie wore two rings on each hand, bedazzling his ring and pinky fingers. He had a sweetheart face, his brows soft and so were his shallow blue eyes that relaxed you out of any sort of tension. 

 

“Ey John. Who’re the rest of the lot?” This Ritchie boy said pointing into George and Paul’s direction, mostly at George though, at least it seemed that way to George. The girl a couple meters away seemed agitated but also...interested? Like she wanted to see the end of the movie but hated everything about it. She was very relaxed though, compared to George who had a clammy feeling from past and present events conspiring. 

 

“Ah, my manners, Rings this ‘ere is Paul,” John said turning his body towards the mentioned man. His face almost lit up from the eye contact the two made, Paul was no different though, hiding away his face while being introduced. “-and this George.” John mentioned after Ritchie had shaken hands with Paul, the innocent lad turning on his heels to face the mentioned name, putting out his hand in a polite fashion, that was also oddly professional. George took it. 

 

Richard’s hands were calloused, and on closer inspection the boy looked tired, almost aged out of the mere exhaustion he had etched on his face. He still held a friendly smile and just the aura around him spoke “friendly”. 

 

Ritchie and John held up a simple chat, while George and Paul both agreed that they were equally confused. They shared a look of dubiety, avoiding eye contact with the conversation holders. Eventually the two talkers cooled down and within minutes everyone was part of the conversation, and while John and Paul were busy, George had the delight of a chat with Ritchie. 

 

“How do you even know John? A better question, how do you get along?” The last part was said quietly, George not wanting trouble, and even though the joke was utter shiet, Ritchie still let out an innocent and childish laugh, in return making George grin. 

 

“I just know him, and honestly, I just happen to get along with everyone.” Richard replied happily, a gentle smile still evident on his lips. George grinned devilishly. 

 

“So, ‘happen to get along with everyone’ drug dealer type of guy, or ‘happen to get along with everyone’ nice type of guy?” They both laughed in response, and George couldn’t help but gush over Ritchie’s laugh.

 

“‘Happen to get along with everyone’ nice type of guy.” More laughter bubbled out the two, being a great company to each other. “Although, who knows what I do in my spare time!” Ritchie continued only to George’s delight. They continued laughing, though as moments passed the laughter part started sounding more and more strange to say the least. Poor bystanders. 

 

And even though the two were enjoying themselves, George couldn’t help but look at the other boys friend, she seemed agitated at that point, which only made the observer uncomfortable. Ritchie caught up quickly though, immediately turning to the girl.  _ He sure can read people.  _

 

“Ah, I forgot to say but this ‘ere is Mo.” the mentioned girl had an unreadable expression, but she definitely didn’t seem to be amused by any bit of the conversation the two were having. Even with that, Ritchie still didn’t seem like he had a necessity of including the girl in the conversation, though George couldn’t guess as to why. 

 

“How do ya know each other?” George asked out of mere curiosity. Mo shifted and Ringo paused for a moment before finally answering. 

 

“Oh, we met each other at work.” The girl piped in, the other lad being cut off and shut silent. The two “friends” looked to each other, holding a silent conversation with their gaze. 

 

“Really? Where do you work? Aren’t you guys too young to work?” They both gave George a look, telling George to stop. “Too many questions?” George added causing the previous conversation holders to giggle, although Mo did not seem amused. Again. 

 

“How can you speak for our work when your younger than us?” Ritchie only  giggled after his comment, George joining in the laughter. Mo continued her unreadable expression and stance, while closely observing both. 

 

“Well, I’ve got things to do, places to be.” Mo stated calmly, turning on her heels to leave. What surprised George was that Ritchie followed closely after. 

 

“Wait, your leaving too?” In a hurry George asked the boy walking off. Richard stopped and smiled in a manner difficult to read. Mo stopped though she never turned. 

 

“Oh, um no. We just need to chat about something.” The boy said looking back and forth between George and Mo. He seemed nervous about something. They skidded off making distance so that the other three couldn’t hear what was being discussed. Although John and Paul seemed too busy with each other to care. After a short, clearly more professional discussion, the two parted, Ritchie leaving to join George’s side. 

 

“Seemed like you two had a pleasant chat.” A nervous laugh was the only response. Confusion washed over George’s conscious as he attempted to study the oh-so-difficult person in front of him. Blank expressions soon took over the whole conversation, a jabbing sensation of discomfort affecting both parties. 

 

“Wanna leave the love-birds and have a walk?” Ritchie asked with glowing eyes, George couldn’t help a small cough clearing his throat from its tightness. The expression of the boy in front of him made his chest tight. Eventually George nodded slowly and the two were off. 

 

“Where do you two think you're off to?” Paul dared interrupt their escape. He grinned devilishly, tapping John’s shoulder which sadly only got the same reaction from the teen. George couldn’t help but sigh heavily, while Ritchie looked over to his new found friend with a hopeful glint in his eyes. 

 

“Why don’t you two come with?” He asked not even consulting with George whether it was ok or not. Though at that point no one seemed to care. Paul nodded with clear excitement, while his partner seemed disinterested and bored. 

 

The other pair walked over to the previous group joining them in their little walk. Throughout the walk there wasn’t much conversation, but it was still somehow a bonding time the four eventually all grew to enjoy. Just like earlier, George found himself roaming around aimlessly except now he had pleasant company, exchanging short chats and pleasant words between each other. 

 

“Hey, Ritchie can ye play anything?” Paul asked John backing him up with a curious hum. It was a good question that made George curious as well. “Cause ye see, all three of us lads play guitar, ‘cept i also play piano.”

 

“I do too, Paul.” John added and the three giggled. 

 

“Well, I mean I play the drums, not a professional though.” Ritchie finally answered and the rest of the company was surprised. Paul and George helped each other learn the guitar. Paul’s father taught him the piano, John of course, was an unknown source for George, but he now knew he played  _ something.  _

 

“Why don’t we go and play together?” George offered, and everyone seemed to like the idea. Before anyone knew it, they were all walking off to Paul’s house. And after a pleasantly talkative walk, they finally arrived at 20 Forthlin Road. John strode in confidently, while George was stuck dragging Ritchie in. 

 

“Who’re these lads?” Jim, Paul’s father asked with a cocked brow and a tense stance. 

 

“Just some friends, Pa.” and they were off. After half an hour of playing music nonstop, the lot agreed upon some sort of a break. And that break soon extended into an hour, then they jammed some more, and then it was 2 in the morning. 

 

John forced Paul to let him stay over, while George was left to drag out an exhausted Ritchie, though George couldn’t say he wasn’t as well. 

 

After leaving the house a pleasant and peaceful silence took over any sort of conversation. It was simply peaceful, and both ends enjoyed the silence. George tried to talk Richard into letting him walk him home, but it was a pointless argument. George ended up waiting for Ritchie to text him the “ok”, which consequently gave George his number. 

 

After the long day George finally made it home. His parents trusted him enough to think he wasn’t dead, although George did text his mum to tell her where he was. Upon arrival it was clear from the get-go that George was about to get an earful. 

 

“So saying you’d be out for a couple of hours mean you’d disappear til morning.” His father sat in a wooden chair, which everyone said was uncomfortable, and was staring down the boy who’d just come home. While the person he’d texted was gone, most likely suggesting that his mum was already sleeping, that left him with his father and a lecture. 

 

George knew it was wrong to leave the house until the early morning, and it wasn’t a common event, he’d just happened to get distracted. 

 

“Listen, Pa, I’m real sorry but I swear to you I just got distracted. We’d annoyed the neighbors with our little band if yeh don’t believe I was out with Paul.” He wasn’t lying, in fact George was almost certain a noise complaint would come in on Jim’s doorstep within the next few days. 

 

“I sure do believe you, my problem isn’t that. While I am annoyed, I just wanted to ask why you were lying.”  _ Huh?  _ George lost any coherent thoughts and stared absentmindedly at his father.  _ Did he know?  _ But that was almost impossible. 

 

“Elaborate.” A cold statement slipped out of George’s lips. He couldn’t help himself when his hands shook out of fear of being forced out of the closet. He stared at his father with ice covered brown eyes and a still face, while his father remained somehow calm even though he lost his temper mere seconds ago. 

 

“I hear that you were in a fight.”  _ Thank god.  _ That wasn’t necessarily what George had expected to hear, being out all day made him forget about what happened. He forgot so hard that he somewhat looked upto to John. Reasons. 

 

“Oh, Pa, listen I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to be that way, and me and that guy already made up. We’re pals now.” George reasoned with his father who remained calm.  His shaking subsided, a calmer expression taking over. If his father knew, he would’ve definitely acted differently. 

 

“Alright, you know we trust you.” A simple sentence ended the whole conversation. His father went upstairs, while George stood still for another minute digesting everything that had just happened. 

 

Situation now over, George made his way upstairs to his bedroom. Finally got comfortable in bed and awaited slumber. But he  _ couldn’t.  _ Something was off. Very off. Maybe it was his father and their conversation, but that wasn’t quite it to George either.  _ What is this feeling? _

 

Was it fear? No. Something along the lines of being spooked. But something else was involved. The cracks his curtains didn’t cover seemed like a whole sliding glass door. And in those now larger cracks you could faintly see the shadow. 

 

The faint shadow of the top of someone’s head. The strings of hair that made the slight difference in the usual simple curtains. Hardly noticeable, until you feel the feeling. 

 

The feeling of eyes burning into you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooo. This boy took me awhile to finish, as I’ve mentioned gosh darn George chapters are so hard. Anyhow hope you guys like it ;)


End file.
